


i feel things when i'm with you

by alovelylight



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Non-Explicit Sex, They are happy and in love, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, because these murder-obsessed weirdos deserve it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 06:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18845203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alovelylight/pseuds/alovelylight
Summary: There is nothing outside the certainty that their bodies are connected, that their hearts come from the same source of delicious terrors. It’s not just the buzz of the wedding that puts these thoughts in her head; in some inexplicable way, she’s always known that she was meant to meet someone, something, like Villanelle. Something as wonderful and brutal and human and different in any other way she’s ever known.





	i feel things when i'm with you

Eve knows that if her heartbeat can leap out of her body, it would bring the whole world crashing all around them. She and Villanelle fumble at the door lock with messy hands and distracted eyes, and when they finally cross that threshold, they don’t pause to think. Eve knows this rhythm well by now, and the searing melody of it makes her head swim.

She’s pushed onto the sofa, the pressing thud of it a welcome pressure. Her wife (in Eve’s head, she is still chanting that very title, as surprised as she is relieved by the sense of belonging in it) climbs over her to straddle her hips. Villanelle is glorious in the glow of the room, the orange burning of the fireplace mixed with the moonlight painting her in a cacophony of strange colors. Her wedding dress, as dramatically beautiful as it was before, is now a result of running barefoot through the grass, her hair streaking the wind, her lipstick smearing against Eve’s pulse point.

“I love you,” she whimpers into a dark corner of Villanelle’s skin, and she lets it stay there. They’ve expressed such declarations during the tumultuous stage of chasing each other across continents, but this would be the first time to say it after the wedding, and she wants Villanelle to know it. She wants her to feel it.

“I know,” says Villanelle, with that smirk of self-satisfaction Eve loves so much.

“This is not the time to be cocky,” Eve teases, pinching the back of Villanelle’s neck. She shivers despite the summer heat rolling in through the window.

Grinning mischievously, she leans down to bite Eve’s nose. “But you _so_ love me that way.” Her voice falls into a sultry hum as she trails her lips to each of Eve’s cheeks and then her forehead. “I’ve dreamed of something like this since I saw you in that bathroom.” Her quiet confession doesn’t serve to calm the increasingly loud steps of Eve’s heartbeat. There is home to be found here, she decides. Villanelle’s dress hiked up to her hips, her hands framing Eve’s face, Eve’s own holding her close.

She presses Villanelle even closer as her neck is being thoroughly ravaged. Eve catches her hips and uses that as an opportunity to roll her over. Now that she’s draped over her wife, she unfastens her hair and lets it fall around them as though to hide Villanelle from the world outside. Enraptured, Villanelle curls her fingers inside the black coils. Eve leans down to lick her neck.

Hissing with impatience, Villanelle unzips the back of Eve’s dress. She lets it fall off her shoulders, down over her hips, past her thighs, and to the floor. Eve lets herself devour each new patch of skin revealed as Villanelle’s expensive silks come undone. Her perfect princess with the bruised collarbone is a sight to behold.

When she curls her fingers inside Villanelle, with both of their moans laced with desire, she is stunned to see there are tears on her lover’s face. She has never seen Villanelle cry. Her hand stills. “Don’t you dare stop, Eve,” Villanelle commands, and so Eve obeys. How could she not? “I didn’t know a person could feel this much,” she hears Villanelle say, breathless, over the roaring of her ears. “You make me feel things.”

When Villanelle comes, she doesn’t break eye contact. There’s a storm brewing in her body, an animal force of love unfolding. Eve couldn’t bear to look away even if she wanted to. “You make me feel things too, you dork,” she says.

“Good.” There’s a triumphant gleam in Villanelle’s eyes. “Because we’re meant for each other. You practically proposed to me when you stabbed me in Paris, you flirt.” There’s softness and humor and undisguised devotion in the way she’s looking at her, and not for the first time, Eve wants to consume Villanelle.

“Now open your legs, and  _relax_ ,” says Villanelle, pushing Eve back against the cushions. “Which tongue should I use?”

“Italian,” Eve says. This seems like that kind of night.

Villanelle murmurs sweet, serene things to her in Italian, licking and biting the insides of her thighs. Eve doesn’t know what she’s saying, and she doesn’t care. Her whimpers give way to moans as Villanelle buries her tongue deep inside her.

The pleasure ripples through Eve’s body, all the noise and color of the woman beneath her a blinding light. The intensity of it wracks through Eve, causing her to throw her head back and scream Villanelle’s name.

There’s no such thing as time. There is nothing outside the certainty that their bodies are connected, that their hearts come from the same source of delicious terrors. It’s not just the buzz of the wedding that puts these thoughts in her head; in some inexplicable way, she’s always known that she was meant to meet someone, something, like Villanelle. Something as wonderful and brutal and human and different in any other way she’s ever known.

**Author's Note:**

> plz comment


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